


Heat Wave

by loves_books



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 09:18:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2062584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loves_books/pseuds/loves_books
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the hottest day of the year, standing under the baking sun over yet another body, Hathaway finds it all a bit much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heat Wave

**Author's Note:**

> Another little idea I had that begged to be written, even though I really should be working on other things. As such, this is unbetaed, barely edited and probably far from original. Please forgive any glaring mistakes.

Not even so much as the tiniest hint of a breeze, on the hottest day of the year so far by an absolute mile. Hathaway shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot as the sun beat down on him, trying not to grimace when he felt a trickle of sweat working its annoying way down between his shoulder blades. He knew that beneath his jacket his shirt was already plastered to his body, and this was the most lightweight suit he owned.

A breeze would be really good right then, he thought muzzily. Or even a patch of shade he could stand in while SOCO were doing their work. They were stood in the centre one of Oxford’s smaller and lesser known quads, little more than a patch of well-manicured grass overlooked by windows thrown wide to the summer sun. It was quiet and calm, and really very charming even by Oxford’s high standards, yet it was also hotter than a furnace.

The hottest day of the year, certainly, and not a single breath of fresh air to be had. The midday sun beat down relentlessly on the team of police officers, and the beautiful stone of the college walls and the cobbled floor they stood on seemed to simply reflect the heat straight back at them, multiplying it until it occurred to Hathaway that the inside of a furnace would probably be a fair bit cooler.

A passing PC, dripping in sweat himself, handed Hathaway a bottle of water as he passed by. It was at least the fourth or fifth bottle he’d drunk that day, yet still he eagerly twisted off the cap and downed half of the tepid liquid in one long gulp, trying to focus on Lewis as he spoke with Laura Hobson a short distance away from the body which lay in the very centre of the grass.

Quite obviously murder, thought Hathaway as he blinked in the blinding sunshine, at the same time as Hobson seemed to come to the same conclusion. The back of the man’s head was a mask of blood and brain tissue, clearly having been caved in with something fairly heavy by someone quite determined. Very little blood on the grass around him, suggesting he’d been killed elsewhere and moved here later. Yet apparently there had been no witnesses, or at least none who had come forward so far.

Possibly the baking heat had sent any potential witnesses into drowsy comas, Hathaway mused dimly, shifting again where he stood and trying very hard to stay focussed as the temperature seemed to climb higher still. Not a breath of air in the quad, and he hated the feeling of sweat on his skin for no good reason. He was reaching the point where he would pay good money for a single gust of cool air – it was really like trying to breathe hot cotton wool, and he knew for a fact that he wasn’t the only one suffering in these temperatures.

One young SOCO had already fainted from the heat and had been helped off to lie down somewhere cool. All those who could reasonably take cover had done so, sheltering in the doorways in the corners of the quad, and at least someone had the good sense to send for bottled water. Speaking of water, Hathaway drained the last of his and started looking around hopefully for more.

Lewis threw him a slightly concerned look but didn’t pause in his conversation with Hobson, and Hathaway tried to blink back into focus. His governor had taken the sensible decision to shrug out of his suit jacket and roll up his shirt sleeves, though he hadn’t gone so far as to loosen his tie yet. Always practical, was Lewis. The usual dress code was trumped by health and safety, quite naturally, though Hobson and SOCO wore their white crime scene suits as usual.

Perhaps he should really follow suit and lose his own suit. The thought made Hathaway giggle even as he gasped for breath in the thick and heavy air, chest suddenly a little tight, and both Lewis and Hobson turned towards him. Odd, but Lewis seemed to be moving his mouth as if he was speaking, though Hathaway suddenly couldn’t hear anything but the blood rushing in his ears, and everything seemed too bright in spite of his sunglasses, though there was a black ring hovering around the edges of his vision, and then the quad seemed to shift sideways, and, oh, something wasn’t quite right, and then…

He didn’t quite faint, not entirely, though Hathaway suspected it was very close. Strong hands under his arms, catching him as he started to topple forwards, then another two or possibly three pairs of hands steadying him and helping him stumble on shaky legs out of the worst of the heat.

He thought someone was talking to him, calling his name, though he really couldn’t make much sense of the vague noises which seemed to surround him. The brightness of the boiling sun was suddenly gone, thankfully, and he made a renewed effort to catch his breath as those steadying hands pushed him gently down to sit on cooler stone, one warm hand sliding around to the back of his neck and encouraging him to drop his head forwards between his knees, his sunglasses lifted off gently.

Determined hands manoeuvred his traitorous and unresponsive arms around until his jacket was tugged down and away, at the same time as someone else removed his tie and opened the top two buttons on his shirt. Hathaway swallowed hard as some of that tightness around his chest seemed to ease, and a little more oxygen found its way into his lungs.

Slowly, steadily, the world started to realign around him, and Hathaway became aware of two people kneeling in front of him, and a third someone standing close by his side.

“Easy, James – try to take some slow, deep breaths.” Laura Hobson came gradually into focus, still in her white scene suit, her face damp with sweat and her eyes deeply concerned as she wrapped her fingers carefully around his wrist, feeling his pulse. “Are you with us?”

He managed a nod, though he couldn’t quite find the breath to reply. Hobson reached out her other hand and pressed it gently against his forehead – it felt cool against his overheated skin, and Hathaway sighed at the touch before gasping again, wishing there was more oxygen.

Another hand, far more familiar and always very welcome, landed on his shoulder and squeezed firmly through his damp shirt. “Slowly, lad,” Lewis murmured, reaching back to take something from the somebody Hathaway couldn’t see. “Here, drink this. Slowly, now, just sip.”

Rather than pressing the bottle of water into his hands, Lewis unscrewed the cap himself and held it to Hathaway’s lips. Tilting his head obediently as he sat up a fraction, Hathaway tried to obey his boss, tried not to jump when Lewis’s free hand slipped up to cradle the weight of his head. The water was cooler than before, and refreshing, and his sense of the world around him sharpened a little further still.

“Thanks,” he managed to croak when Lewis lifted the water away, leaning back to rest against the stone walls of the underpass. It was cooler, certainly, out of the worst of the sun, though the air was still thick with heat. “Sorry, I, it’s just…”

“It’s okay, Sergeant. It’s really far too hot out there.” Hobson hovered for a moment, watching him with pursed lips, before nodding to herself. She turned to whoever it was who stood by Hathaway’s side, hands braced on her knees as if to stand up. “Stay with him, please, Constable?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” It was Julie Lockhart, Hathaway realised belatedly, and the young officer came to kneel in Hobson’s place as the doctor headed back out into the burning heat of their crime scene. “Just breathe, Sarge, slowly now.”

“Breathing, yes. Okay, trying.” That would be a good idea, Hathaway understood that, but even though it really was cooler, the air was still almost thick enough to chew.

Lewis was still in front of him too, though Hathaway knew his governor should really be following Doctor Hobson back out. The older man didn’t seem so bothered by the heat for some reason, though his face was red and glistening with sweat, and his deep blue eyes were focussed on Hathaway with a strange intensity. “Do you need an ambulance, James?” he asked softly, and immediately Hathaway felt he could have died from embarrassment.

He shook his head once, holding out a shaky hand to take the half-empty bottle of water from his boss. “I’ll be fine, Sir, really.” Was that actually how his voice sounded, so rough? He took another sip of water and tried to clear his throat, ending up coughing instead. Catching his breath again, he added, “Give me a minute and I’ll be back out there with you. Honest.”

Hathaway didn’t think he was fooling Lewis for even a second, but the Inspector knew his job well enough. Those worried blue eyes crinkled for just a moment as Lewis offered him a smile, squeezing the back of Hathaway’s neck reassuringly before standing up. The effort involved in following the older man’s movements with his eyes proved too much, and Hathaway let his head hang low with a groan as a bout of dizziness threatened to send him into a faint again.

He might have greyed out again for a minute or two, he wasn’t really sure. Next thing he knew, there was a wet cloth being draped deliberately around the back of his neck, and another patting gently at his forehead. “Julie…”

“Ssh, Sarge. Easy now.” Lockhart continued her ministrations, and Hathaway finally gave up any pretence of being okay, sipping slowly at his water and cursing the heat. After a few minutes, or possibly a few hours, the young PC told him softly, “Another two officers have gone down now. Inspector Lewis has ordered everyone non-essential away from the site, or at least out of the sun.”

“Who?” Hathaway asked, lifting his head slightly, trying to focus. 

Lockhart looked away from him, back out towards the centre of the quad. “Morrison and Ngozi,” she reported after a second. “Ngozi is back on her feet but it looks like they’ve had to carry Ross out of the quad.”

Hathaway felt guilty for feeling glad at hearing which officers had gone down. There would doubtless be a fair amount of teasing back at the station for those who had fainted in the heat, but at least he wouldn’t be the only one in for it. Ngozi ran marathons in her spare time and was one of the fittest officers at the station, while in contrast Ross Morrison was a particularly overweight example of an officer who had been sweating heavily and complaining at the top of his lungs since the heat wave began. Clearly everyone reacted to the heat differently, fit or not.

It wasn’t even that he was a pale and delicate English rose, Hathaway mused in frustration as Lockhart continued to press the cold cloth to his forehead. Yes, he was blonde, and yes, he got sunburnt fairly easily if he wasn’t careful, but he was usually fine in the heat. They’d been out and around in the sun often enough over the past few weeks that his naturally pale skin had long since turned a soft golden brown, and he knew he’d been drinking enough water. Or thought he'd been drinking enough water. It was just one of those things.

A cold shower and a change of clothes sounded like his idea of heaven right now, though Hathaway knew he should really try to get back on his feet and get back out there beside Lewis, even if that thought was far from appealing. There was a murder to be solved, after all, and he couldn’t sit around all day being fussed over. Mopping his heated brow wasn’t part of Lockhart’s job description, after all.

He gently took the cloth from her hands with a grunt of thanks and made a somewhat determined attempt to push to his feet, but his head went airy and everything suddenly threatened to go dim once more. He knew he would have fallen if Lewis hadn’t appeared back by his side, those strong hands catching him again as Lockhart scrambled to steady him, lifting the mostly empty water bottle away from him. 

“Woah, lad, where d’you think you’re going now?” Lewis’s voice was a strange mixture of deeply concerned and angry at the same time, which made Hathaway frown.

“Back to work,” he explained, blinking to try and bring his governor’s expressive face into focus. “I’m ‘kay, really.” That might have been more convincing if he hadn’t had to gasp for air again, Hathaway thought with annoyance. There really wasn’t enough oxygen around at the moment.

Lewis tutted, shaking his head, though his voice was softer when he spoke again. “You’re going nowhere but to the medic then home, Sergeant.” Those strong hands eased him back against the wall again, the coolness of the stone seeping through Hathaway’s sweat-damp shirt and making him shiver. “Julie, can you take him? Jackson’ll give you a hand.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Hathaway made one last attempt at protest. “Sir, really…” 

“James, go home.” Lewis leaned closer, lips almost touching his ear, and Hathaway had to resist moving away from the heat of the other man’s body. “Believe it or not, we’ve just had a confession. His roommate by the looks of things. We’ll still have to dot the I’s and cross the T’s, but the job’s half done now. Go home, man.”

“Okay,” Hathaway finally agreed, wanting nothing more than to be away from that inferno of a quad now. For a second he had the ridiculous thought that Lewis would lean closer still and press a kiss to his burning cheek, but the Inspector was up and away with barely a backward glance, leaving him in the capable hands of two PCs. 

* * *

James blinked awake to the sound of the front door clicking quietly closed. It was followed by soft footsteps in the hallway, which paused outside the bedroom, and he smiled sleepily as he stretched lazily beneath the cool cotton sheet. Rolling onto his side, he was surprised when the clock on the bedside table showed it was already gone four.

He hadn’t meant to sleep for so long. In fact, he hadn’t really planned to fall asleep at all, intending simply to lie down for a few minutes before getting dressed and heading back to work. Lockhart and Jackson had escorted him back to the station as ordered – the short ride in the thankfully air-conditioned car had revived him somewhat, and a large glass of ice cold water while waiting for the on-call medic had helped even more. 

The doctor had diagnosed a mild heatstroke and sent him away with orders to drink lots of fluids, stay out of the sun, and go to the hospital if he felt any worse. He’d asked Lockhart to drive him home, planning to just grab a shower and get back to the station, but the simple act of standing beneath the cool water – cool but not cold, just as the doctor recommended – had left him completely exhausted. 

The bed had looked so very welcoming, the room beautifully cool thanks to Robbie’s foresight in leaving the curtains closed that morning, and half an hour couldn’t hurt. Dressed only in his boxers, James had let his drained body sink into the mattress, settled his head on the cool pillows, and closed his eyes.

Now half the afternoon had gone by, and James felt suddenly bad for not letting Robbie know he was okay. But before he could call out to the other man, the bedroom door was opened carefully, a floorboard creaking slightly. 

“James? You okay, pet?” Robbie sounded worried, and James felt his guilt increase tenfold.

“I’m fine.” He carefully started to push himself up to a sitting position, pleased when the world only span around him for a few seconds before solidifying into the familiar shadows and shapes of their bedroom. “Sorry, I fell asleep. Meant to call you.”

Robbie shucked off his suit jacket and dropped it on the back of the chair as he crossed the room, perching on the side of the bed and immediately pressing the back of his hand to James’s forehead. “You feel a whole lot cooler than earlier,” he murmured, a frown just about visible in the dim half-light of the room. “You scared me half to death, keeling over like that.”

James huffed a soft laugh even as he leaned into the cool touch. “I didn’t keel over.”

“You keeled part of the way over.” Robbie pulled his hand away, leaning in for a kiss instead, and James sighed happily as their lips met. “I spoke to the medic – heatstroke? You’re not feeling any worse, I hope?”

“No, I’m feeling much better. Really.” He shifted to sit back against the headboard as Robbie bent down to start undoing his shoes. “Cool shower, lots of water, dark room. Just what the doctor ordered.” There was even a soft breeze now from the wide open windows, the curtains blowing back and forth gently. Heaven.

“Oh, that reminds me. Hang on…” Robbie suddenly shot up and out of the room in his bare feet, returning quickly holding something James recognised immediately. “Here, hope I got it right. One of those posh coffees you like with an extra shot, and caramel flavouring, though I’m not sure it’d be exactly what the doctor ordered. Rather than hot I got it on ice.”

“You bought me iced coffee?” He accepted the proffered beaker with a wide smile, sipping gratefully at the cold beverage, feeling the immediate jolt as the caffeine hit his system. He sighed happily, sinking further down into the bed. “I can’t believe you bought me iced coffee. Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

It was the older man’s turn to laugh at that. “Always good to know,” Robbie murmured, pressing a kiss to James’s forehead before moving away and continuing to remove his clothes. “I wanted to come home with you, y’know? Make sure you were okay?” he mumbled suddenly, sounding guilty.

“I knew. Of course I knew.” James had known Robbie would rather have driven him straight to the hospital the moment he’d nearly fainted, but Inspector Lewis had a murder to solve and would have to leave DS Hathaway in the capable hands of others. It was hard, sometimes, keeping their work life separate from their private lives. “Julie took good care of me. I think she wanted to stay while I took a shower, just in case I fell.”

“Might not’ve been a bad idea.” Robbie’s voice was muffled yet thoughtful as he searched through a drawer for a clean t-shirt. “We had to get an ambulance out for Morrison in the end; couldn’t wake him. He’s being kept in hospital overnight, just in case, but they say he’ll be just fine. The heat in that quad was absolutely brutal.”

James took another long drink of his iced coffee, nodding in agreement. Brutal summed it up nicely. And speaking of brutal – “Was it the roommate?”

“Aye, it was. A heat of the moment thing, quite literally. Full confession before we’d even left the site; now he’s cooling off in the cells.” Robbie came back to stand by the bed in just his boxers, t-shirt apparently forgotten, and stroked a tender hand through James’s hair. “Paperwork can wait until tomorrow, according to Herself. Everything else was quiet so I came home – think the heat’s making all the crooks stay out of the sun, and I’m certainly owed the time.”

Still sipping at his coffee, James closed his eyes for a moment and sighed as Robbie continued to pet his head gently, rough fingers stroking behind his ear and down to his throat. It really did feel very naughty, both of them in their underwear in the middle of a work-day afternoon, their curtains drawn against the light and heat of the day. In the shadows of their room, Robbie’s bare chest and stomach were every bit as enticing as they always were to James, and he carefully placed the dregs of his drink onto the bedside table before sliding his hands around his man’s waist to pull him closer.

“Hey, none of that now, love!” Robbie pulled back with a quiet laugh, both hands landing on James’s shoulders to push him back gently yet firmly against the headboard. “You’re supposed to be cooling down, not getting all fired up.”

Frustrating, obviously, but James knew his partner was right. He still felt drained, in spite of his unexpected sleep and the wonderful icy gift he’d just finished, though thankfully he no longer felt as if his insides were actually cooking in the heat. Still, he managed to snag one hand around the back of Robbie’s neck and pull him close enough for one more lingering kiss before letting him go reluctantly. 

“Spoilsport,” James murmured with a smile, before slumping back down willingly into the pillows, shuffling around a little until he found a cool patch.

“Away with you,” Robbie grumbled good-naturedly, offering him a peck on the forehead as a gesture of peace. “Right, I’m going to grab a cool shower myself, then I might just join you for a lie-down if you can keep your hands to yourself.”

“No promises, but I’ll try.” 

“Good man.” Robbie was already heading out of the bedroom, but he paused in the doorway as James slid fully back down to lie flat in the bed. “If you behave, and if you’re still hot, I might perhaps be persuaded to give you a nice cool sponge bath later.”

The thought should’ve made him blush, or snap back something witty about not being old enough or ill enough for that, but instead an entirely welcome flush of heat filled James’s body, so different from the boiling heat of that quad earlier. He groaned loudly in delight at the thought of the two of them together, naked, with cold water and a sponge, and perhaps even a few ice cubes…

Robbie’s soft laugh drifted back to him from the hall, followed immediately by the sound of the bathroom door shutting firmly. “I’ll behave,” James whispered to no one but the bedroom, closing his eyes with a smile and fluffing up the cotton sheet around his mostly naked body. “For now, at least.”


End file.
